


An Oxen Fairy Tale

by Once a Bard (bossyluigi)



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: #justhatsuharuthings, Choking, Drabble, angsty mainhouse aesthetic is big sexy, but i'm tagging yuki too, just a little something, technically from haru's perspective, they probably felt the same about this sort of thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossyluigi/pseuds/Once%20a%20Bard
Summary: A simple drabble about the dark beauty of the Sohma Mainhouse.Written from the perspective of Hatsuharu and Yuki even though they're not mentioned by name.
Kudos: 1





	An Oxen Fairy Tale

The story itself lept off the page countless generations ago. A tale of betrayal, of community, of the birth of days, weeks, months, years— the tale of the jyuunishi came in the form of a cloud hanging heavy over countless acres of claimed land all under the title of ‘Sohma’. 

How did they not know? The ones beyond the main gate— how far removed from life within those were they? If they were to take a look inside, what would they say? What would they do if they realized just how inhuman the monsters in that cage were? 

Their stares cut more like knives, drawing the same blood that tied them together. The unforgiving glances of the outsiders had always been reserved for those within.

Family meant responsibility. It differentiated between those who claimed some sort of secretive birthright and those that simply shared name. Why was it in the hands of the gods who got to be on either side? Why was it up to fate to decide whose lives were worth gifting and whose were worth keeping out of some sick, selfish pleasure?  
  
Still, nothing would ever destroy the sanctity of some of the garden ponds, the quiet side streets of the inner estate, or the labyrinth of hallways through the main house.

Twists and turns from each hall to the next often led to endless bouts of imaginative creations in the eyes of those unfortunate enough to be ‘blessed’ with the touch of god on the very souls of those too innocent to know why the world around them was so distant.

It was their castle to defend, their secluded military outpost, and their story to tell— not the shadow that governed over them during long days, quiet evenings, and at all times in between. 

Their freedom came from their relationships with one another if they were able to cultivate something worth nurturing.

Distance and difference were enough to tear apart any chances of having something even remotely normal— but now, as seasons changed, as years aged them, what had once been the innocence of youth was something else, something new that had yet to be tamed: defiance. 

With the hands of fear wrapped tightly around any throat that drew breath, there was next to nothing anyone could do to truly defy what fate had designed. These were vessels of a story cursed to repeat itself, to pluck the purest of lives and mark the turning of that twelve-year cycle.  
  
No one could or would ever know that kind of fear. It was the kind that stemmed from the knowledge of something just beneath the flesh. It was the knowledge that held the answers to love, life, and why things were the way they were.

Why had they been selected? Why weren’t things fair anymore? Why was living and dying more of a reward than the repetition of coming when called, sitting when commanded, and speaking when spoken to? There was no love, there was no life, at least— from the examples that had been made of those that came before.

Locked doors became constant. Physical retaliation in response to declarations of harmony became a promise rather than something to consider. If one ever was to work up the courage to straddle the line between obedience and freedom, their punishment was assured—

—and no one ever chose to.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a drabble for a friend but I thought, what the hell, I like this and should show it off. I have a ton of things scattered around that I've written for people that I haven't bothered to post so I might as well start kicking my own ass to get them posted while working on getting other things together and posted. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy these little things in the meantime.


End file.
